The Lost Eighteen
by Bothan Spy
Summary: What happens when ObiWan and Yoda get tired of waiting for Luke to grow up? Read and see...
1. Chapter 1

The Lost Eighteen:

Prolog

Twin suns blazed in the heavens, sending massive amounts of solar radiation through space and atmosphere to bake sandy dunes. Most was reflected back into space, further heating the atmosphere on its journey. What little stayed only served to heat the sand hot enough to boil water. There was, however, no water to be boiled in the Dune Sea. There was, in fact, no water on the surface of the entire planet of Tatooine.

It had been speculated by some that water could be found in vast underground rivers and lakes, fed by springs in deep underground wells. Such had never been proven and few had searched in recent centuries, but on a desert planet such stories were favored, and so persisted.

The most popular was a story that was claimed to have come from the journal of a man named Jules Cloudjogger, who journeyed into the mouth of a long dead volcano, went on to find a vast underground lake, sail across it, and resurface on the far side of the planet. At least that had been the popular story when Obi-Wan Kenobi was in Mos Espa during the last Boonta's Eve celebration.

He had only been there for some supplies he needed to repair several vaporators that had burned out when a sand storm came blowing through town, forcing him to seek shelter. He had found himself at an orphanage. After two days, he could quote the story by heart. After three days, he caught himself contemplating the effects of igniting his lightsaber with the working end held to his temple.

When the storm lifted, he gladly made a swift exodus while the town's citizens reveled in the streets, intent upon making up for the lost holiday.

Now, three weeks later, he found himself silently reviewing the story of Jules Cloudjogger as he rested in the shade of a small cave where the Dune Sea met the Jundland Wastes. He watched as the suns tortured the rolling landscape before him.

The idea of a journal had appealed to him. So much so that he had decided to keep one of his own. He was not cataloging his story, but information about the Jedi. He decided to write about the most critical things a Jedi would need to know. More precisely, things that his former pupil, Anakin's, son would need to defeat his father and the Emperor.

Obi-Wan put the journal down with a sigh. He had just finished transcribing instructions on lightsaber construction. "Will he be able to do it?" he wondered aloud. His voice echoed in the depths of the cave.

"_If not him, then who?"_ came the reply. A blue shade shimmered into existence beside him.

"I should have finished the job myself when I had the chance," his voice barely constituted a whisper

"You didn't know he would live," the shade said. "And that still would have left The Emperor. He would only have found another pupil." 

Obi-Wan tracked a line of Sand People on the horizon, their silhouettes moving slowly across the red sky. The second sun had almost disappeared beyond the sea of sand.

"But it wouldn't have been him," Obi-Wan turned to face the ghost of his former master. "He wouldn't be out there, right now, serving evil." He turned back to watching the tuskens make their trek.

"We put a lot of weight on his shoulders. He knew about the prophesy from the start. The day we landed on Coruscant he heard it. He knew what we expected from him." Obi-Wan turned back to face his master's ethereal from. "We're putting the same weight on his son. Maybe more."

"You _fear him falling prey to his father's weakness."_ It was not a question.

"I can't help but wonder."

_"We have been over this before, Obi-Wan. We all agreed what must be done."_ Qui-Gon regarded his former student in an almost fatherly manner. _"Obi-Wan, What's really bothering you?"_

The Jedi sighed again and stood. "What's bothering me is sitting here on this backwater rock while the civilization I dedicated my life to protect is being turned upside down by a madman who has the most powerful force user the galaxy has seen in ages under his thumb. I know that we can't confront them directly but there has to be something that we can do to at least slow them down."

_"Swatting at locusts won't slow the swarm."_

Obi-Wan smiled at the remark. He couldn't help but remember the time he and Qui-Gon had stirred up a swarm of carnivorous locusts on Alkard IX in the deep core. The onslaught had been so fierce and so sudden; they had killed countless hundreds in less than a minute. Thinking quickly, his master had sent out a force suggestion to the large bugs telling them they were not hungry but tired. Even Qui-Gon had been mildly surprised at the speed the swarm left, intent on sleeping. Obi-Wan had only been a padawan then, but the event had stuck with him vividly.

The Empire was very much like a plague of locusts. Its Clone Troopers, spreading through the galaxy subduing any that gave resistance to the new order, and conquering territories that never had joined the Republic, killing and maiming as they went.

Swatting at a handful of them would never slow the flood. Putting them all to sleep was a task that not even Yoda could have managed, and would do little but give the army a short and restful hiatus. Even if they could kill or incapacitate the entire army, the emperor would just order a new one.

The stars had exploded into their full splendor in the cloudless night sky. Obi-Wan studied them for a time before coming out of his reverie. "Your right, of course" he said to the faintly glowing figure sharing his cave. "I still wish there was something we could do."

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not often bothered by dreams. He had returned home after talking with Qui-Gon and gone straight to bed. He woke up not long after, swimming in sweat, sheets tangled, his breath short and gasping.

He hadn't had a dream. He had just had the worst nightmare imaginable. A nightmare in which…

He couldn't bring himself to think of it. It had been horrible.

Then a thought occurred to him, a small little seed of a thought. He tried to dismiss it, but it took root and began to grow. The more he thought about it, the less he liked it, but he couldn't help himself.

Walking to the refresher station he tried to laugh it off. Then he washed his face as if he could scrub the thought out. The longer it persisted the more it seemed to have merit and a 'no that would never…' turned into a 'what if'. After a few hours the 'what if' turned into a 'maybe' and by morning it was a full-fledged idea.

After dressing and breakfasting he had made up his mind. He summoned Qui-Gon's shade and told him the plan. The shade didn't have much of an opinion but agreed to deliver a message to Yoda.

Obi-Wan packed what supplies he would need for a trip to Mos Eisley. It was closer than Mos Espa and the small town had become a hot spot for out of work pilots. It was perfect.

He set out just before nightfall, after securing his house for an extended absence.

He was on his way to stir up trouble for the fledgling empire!

More chapters to follow!


	2. Chapter 2

The dark furred bothan smiled down at Obi-Wan. "Ah, Mos Eisley! You will never find a more retched hive of scum and villainy," He laughed.

The alien was standing there with crossed arms and a roguish, though somewhat disturbing, grin on his face. Obi-Wan didn't know if he should thank the creature or get up and walk away.

It had taken two days to reach Mos Eisley by foot, and another day in the cantina to find a pilot who wouldn't laugh at his offer of payment on delivery. That pilot, and his partner, had decided that mugging the Jedi ten steps out the back door was an easier and quicker way to obtain cash.

He could have easily put an end to the situation with a quick wave of his hand and nudge of the force, but he hadn't had time. No sooner had he heard the blaster holster's strap unsnapping then the bothan had appeared from nowhere and shoved him face first to the ground. Obi-Wan rolled onto his backside but stopped short of drawing his lightsaber and entering the fight. The bothan had already dispatched the two men.

So there they were, the bothan standing over him with that strange smile. Stranger still was his attire. He wore a black sleeveless tunic of dull leather and black wool trousers. Leather bracers adorned his forearms and lower legs. His clothing was more suited to the back woods than a dessert, but what really caught Obi-Wan's attention were the weapons. Several knives were strapped to various places on his body, a small mace hung at his hip, and two odd looking short spears were strapped in an 'X' across his back. He looked like he was about to go on a primitive commando raid. The dark calico fur covering his body in a pattern vaguely resembling camouflage didn't help dissuade the image.

The bothan offered him a hand, "You should be more careful."

"You find this funny?" Obi-Wan stood without accepting the proffered hand.

The bothan looked around as if worried someone would here him then leaned in close with a serious look on his face. "Yes", he whispered then laughed again. "Come, I will buy you a drink"

The bothan took him by the arm, leading him back towards the cantina and out of the alleyway. _Scum and villainy is right_, Obi-Wan thought as they walk past the moaning bodies of two would be assailants. The bothan kicked one of the men in the rump as he tried to stand up, sending him reeling head first into a trash heap while the other man scampered off clutching an obviously broken arm to his chest.

"Excuse me!" he addressed the bothan and stopped short of following him through the arched door. "I am afraid I didn't catch your name," He let a little of his irritation at the bothan's pushy attitude bleed out through his voice.

"Business before pleasure friend! Or don't you need a ship to get off this dust ball?" The bothan laughed again and retreated into the building

"And what," Obi-Wan asked following, "makes you think I want to leave this 'dust ball'?"

"There is a reason my species is renown for its spy network."

"So you're a spy then."

"No, of course not! We just have a natural aptitude for eaves dropping. Or did you think these were just for decoration." He pointed at his ears. "It's a wonder we aren't all born with built-in sonar."

They reached the bar. The bothan sat and ordered a drink, "I can't stand all that cloak and dagger stuff anyway." The bartender, a rodian who smelled like he had been working with banthas, brought two mugs filled with a sticky orange liquid.

The bothan took a long draw of his beverage then placed the empty mug back on the bar. "Fee is two-thousand on delivery" he said without preamble.

"What's the catch?" Obi-Wan had been around the galaxy enough times to know that price was far too cheap.

"The catch my friend, is that I am desperate and my ship just happens to be heading in your direction. If my business in the core falls through then my trip will not have been a total waste. Are you going to drink that?"

"And you know I'm heading to the core because of your two satellite dishes I assume."

"Naturally! Are you going to drink that?"

"Are you sure that two thousand will cover the expense of a detour?" He handed the bothan his untouched mug.

The bothan made his new drink disappear in a similar fashion as the first. "I have a feeling that our destinations are near enough to make it worth my while. So, do we have a deal?"

"I don't suppose I have much of a choice." Obi-Wan shook the aliens' outstretched hand.

"Excellent! My ship is docking bay eighteen. I'll meet you there in two hours." He got up to leave. "By the way," He said looking back over his shoulder, "My name's Pak."

"Ben" Obi-Wan offered, giving his chosen alias. Even this far from the core it wasn't safe to hand out his real name.

He watched the bothan quickly and effortlessly weave his way through the throng of tables and sentients on his way to the main entrance, uncertain if he had made a wise decision. Shaking his head he turned to leave when something tugged at his shoulder. He turned to see the rodian bar tender holding out a long fingered hand.

He looked for the bothan already knowing he would be gone. He was. "Why do I get the feeling", he said to himself, "That this is going to cost me more that two thousand?"


End file.
